


Honeymoon

by Persiflager



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 04:45:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16443167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflager/pseuds/Persiflager
Summary: Aaron can't sleep.





	Honeymoon

It’s the third night of their honeymoon, and Aaron can’t sleep. There’s moonlight streaming through the curtains and Robert snoring in his ear, and for some reason Aaron’s wide awake.

He fumbles his phone off the bedside table. Half past three in the morning, Maldives time; that’s closing time in Emmerdale, too late to call Liv.

As carefully as he can, Aaron extricates himself out from under Robert’s outflung arm and clambers out of bed. He grabs his phone, pulls on the first pair of pants he finds on the floor, and heads out to the balcony to kill some time.

It’s a warm night, with the moon shining brightly across the sea like a pale sun. The other balconies are empty and he can’t see or hear anyone on the beach below. The air is damp from the rainstorm earlier and the waves make a gentle shushing sound, as if telling Aaron to be quiet.

Aaron feels quiet. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this quiet before in his life. It’s like the volume’s been turned down on all the usual crap that goes on his head. He can hear his heartbeat, feel it pulsing all the way down to the finger his wedding ring’s on. 

“People used to think they were connected”, Robert had said earlier, in between rounds, tracing a path across Aaron’s chest and down his arm. “That there was a vein straight down from the heart to here. We know they’re not now but we still wear wedding rings on that finger. What does that say about us?”

“That we’re idiots,” Aaron had said before rolling Robert over and showing him a better use of his fingers. He thinks he gets it now, though. He’s not going to tell Robert but he thinks the people who first came up with that might have had a point.

Aaron sits down on one of the metal chairs, kicks his feet up onto the balcony rail, and starts fucking around on his phone. The screen glares brightly in the darkness, projecting images right onto the backs of his eyes - a few messages from Liv, yet more wedding photos on Facebook, people he barely knows chipping in with their congratulations. He saves all the pictures, even the blurry ones.

It’s been about twenty minutes when Aaron hears the door open behind him.

“And you said I had a problem,” says Robert, and he wraps his arms around Aaron from behind. He’s warm and smells of the bed they left inside. “I’m going to delete that game off your phone.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“Problem?”

Aaron shakes his head. “The opposite, actually.”

“Good.” Robert straightens up and comes round beside Aaron, which is when Aaron realises he’s naked. Apparently unconcerned, Robert sits down on other chair, yawns, and looks out at the sea.

Aaron put his phone face down on the spindly little table beside him and considers his husband’s long, lean, gloriously unabashed nudity. On the most basic level, he feels unambiguous desire, always has. It’s barely been below a simmer for the best part of four years, boiling over at the slightest provocation, and Robert’s naked body in the moonlight is more than enough to do it for him. Aaron’s desire for Robert is an old friend (and occasional enemy); he’s familiar with the way it makes his mouth go dry and his knees go weak and his cock swell. Aaron acknowledges this and puts it aside, for now, the way he’s learned to do; not ignoring it, just ‘I’ll come back to you in a minute’.

Below that, Aaron feels fiercely protective. Robert is beautiful and breakable and so, so open. Aaron wants to cover him with his own body, snarl at anyone who comes near.

Deeper yet, there’s envy. Not of how Robert looks (he’s fit but so’s Aaron, and Aaron likes the differences between them, finds them arousing) but of Robert’s flagrant exhibitionist streak. Robert doesn’t just not fear being looked at; he gets off on it. Robert would walk around naked all day if he could. Aaron envies him the joy he takes in his own skin, when Aaron’s so often punished his. It makes Aaron want to apologise to his own body for all the times he’s hurt it.

And beneath that, there's something else. Something new. Not quite possessiveness (he's felt that before) but - ownership? Robert's body feels his, as if Robert really had signed it over in their marriage vows. And that must mean that his body is Robert's. Aaron feels split between two bodies, responsible for both and in control of neither, and uncomfortably aware of the times he has treated each of them with a lack of due reverence and care. 

Aaron had thought of marriage as being something between him and Robert; he hadn't expected it to affect the relationship he has with himself. He feels as if he's been re-arranged down to his cells, as if the smallest part of him has been engraved just like Robert's watch.

Robert's hand finds his. “Seriously though, what's up? And don't say 'nothing’.”

Aaron shrugs. “Dunno. Just woke up and couldn't get back down. Jet lag, maybe?”

“Hm.” Robert turns Aaron's hand over and traces Aaron's wrist with his thumb. Waits. He must be able to feel Aaron's pulse there, slow and steady like the waves beneath them.

“I didn't think it would change much, it being legal,” admits Aaron. “But everything feels different. I feel different. Like Aaron Sugden-Dingle’s a different person.”

Robert nods, the movement barely visible in the darkness. “I know what you mean.”

“It’s not bad, I just-”

“I know,” says Robert again, and he squeezes Aaron’s hand. “For what it’s worth, I liked Aaron Dingle too.”

They sit quietly. Aaron watches the moon’s reflection wobble on the shining sea, fracturing and re-forming with each passing wave. After a couple of minutes, Robert’s hand drifts down onto his thigh and starts to move upwards with obvious intent.

“Seriously?”

“Why not?” says Robert, grinning. “You won’t have sex with me on the beach.”

“Not a chance,” says Aaron. “I’m not putting on a show.”

Robert leans in close, nosing at Aaron’s jaw, his breath hot against Aaron’s skin. “No-one’s watching,” he says, and Aaron can feel his lips curve in a smile. Aaron knows that smile; that smile has got him into so much trouble over the past few years. “Everyone’s fast asleep, because they’re boring. And you like doing it outside.”

“Who says I’m in the mood?” says Aaron on principle, because it does Robert good to work for it sometimes.

Robert laughs as if he’s said something funny. “Reckon I can get you there.”

Aaron’s pulse thrums with desire. He tips his chin up in a challenge. “Go on then.”

Robert makes a pleased humming sort of sound before pushing Aaron’s legs apart. Aaron goes with it; leans back and lets Robert do what he wants, because he’s nice like that.

It reminds him of their first time, a bit, except he’s looking up at a sky full of stars instead of the roof of a Ford Fiesta. He still has to shove his hand in his mouth to keep quiet, though; Robert’s a man on a mission, and his mission is to get Aaron as hard as possible without getting him off. He’s all teasing touches, groping Aaron through his underwear, thumbing at the head of his cock, murmuring in Aaron’s ear all the things he wants to do to him (Robert always knows exactly what he wants; Aaron just wants). When he does eventually get his hand inside Aaron’s pants he cheats, sneaking one hand underneath to rub at the rim of Aaron’s arsehole. He definitely didn’t do that the first time; that’s the benefit of four years fucking each other, countless hours spent exploring and experimenting. Robert knows Aaron’s body better than anyone else ever will, better than Aaron himself.  
And for all of that, it’s not any one trick that does it for Aaron; it’s Robert. It’s Robert’s low, persuasive voice and his large, confident hands and above all the knowledge that Robert wants him. Robert wants him fiercely and it undoes Aaron just as much as it did four years ago, because Robert’s open, unabashed desire gives Aaron permission to want too, so much that he doesn’t care who might be watching.

Aaron turns his head and kisses Robert, a long, open-mouthed breath of a kiss, until Robert’s panting against his mouth. “Go on then,” he says, and he reaches down and takes Robert in hand.

Robert’s cock is hard already, the head wet with pre-come, and it jumps when Aaron touches it. Robert swears quietly and pulls Aaron’s cock out of his pants to stroke it properly, except Robert’s working with his left hand and he can’t get the rhythm right. 

Aaron snickers.

“Shut it, you,” says Robert and he re-adjusts, twisting his body round and leaning across Aaron so he can use his right hand. 

“Do you need me to give you some tips?”

“I’ll give you a tip,” mutters Robert, and he starts wanking Aaron off furiously, like they’ve only got five minutes to get off before someone catches them. It’d hurt if it didn’t feel so good, pleasure arcing up from his tailbone and making his toes curl against the rough stone of the balcony.

Aaron retaliates by thumbing Robert’s slit and Robert hisses. Robert kisses him roughly, as much bite as kiss, and then Aaron puts his wrist into it and somehow it’s become a race. Aaron wrist aches from the strain even as his hips are thrusting up, desperately chasing his orgasm, and just as the wave crests he feels Robert come hotly against his wrist.

They slow together, trading kisses and breathing against each other’s mouths, softly working through the trembling sweetness of the aftershocks.

“That was a good one,” says Robert eventually, resting his forehead against Aaron’s.

“It was alright.” Aaron’s knees are still tingling. He thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe.

Robert looks down and makes a face. “My hand’s disgusting.”

Aaron wants to fall asleep right where he is, disgusting hand and all, but this isn’t the first time they’ve been in this situation and he knows which he’ll regret most in the morning. “Come on, then,” he says, and heaves himself up off the chair.

They wash up quickly, moving around each other in the ensuite with the ease of long practice, and Aaron abandons his pants on the floor (where Robert will no doubt complain about them tomorrow) before face-planting onto the bed.

“Better?” says Robert, flopping down beside Aaron.

“Mm,” says Aaron, and he yawns. “Wait. Did you do that just to get me to go back to sleep?”

“Oh please, like I need an ulterior motive to get off.”

“Rob-”

“Ssh. Sleep now, tell your husband how clever he is in the morning.” Robert cuddles up closer and drapes his arm over Aaron. It might be a coincidence but his hand ends up on top of Aaron’s, their wedding rings meeting with a soft clink. He thinks he can feel Robert’s heartbeat softly thumping, synchronising with his own until he’s not sure where he ends and Robert begins.

Aaron falls asleep to the sound of Robert’s breathing, as steady and reassuring as the tide.


End file.
